Page 111 of I'm sorry, Princess
He slows, and my frustration spikes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Princess,” he rasps, his voice deep and rough with desire. His tongue strokes me again, lazy, torturous. “Could you stop shaking?” He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue, making me cry out. “I’m trying to finish my meal.”
Freaking hell.
His fingers pump harder, faster, curling inside me, his tongue sucking at my clit, devouring me with relentless hunger, like he’s been starving for this. For me.
“Oh,” I cry, losing myself completely.
His grip tightens on my thighs, pinning me open, keeping me right where he wants me, making sure I can’t run from this. From him.
“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking, my body trembling on the edge of something unbearable.
His fingers slow just enough to make me whimper in frustration. The bastard wants to hear it. He wants to hear me say it.
“Words, princess.” His lips brush against me as he speaks, and the vibrations make me see fucking stars.
I try to move against him, to chase my release, but his grip is firm, controlling.
“I need,” I pant, my voice shaking. “I need to come. Please.”
And just like that, he gives it to me.
A third finger joins the others, stretching me, pushing me over the edge as his tongue works me ruthlessly, his lips closing around my clit and sucking hard.
My back arches so violently I think I might break, my body convulsing as my orgasm rips through me, wave after unbearable wave of pleasure that I can’t even contain.
His name falls from my lips like a prayer, a cry, a moan I can’t hold back.
But he doesn’t stop.
Even as I shatter, he keeps going.
His tongue moves slower now, dragging out every aftershock, teasing my oversensitive clit, making me tremble, making my body twitch in overstimulation.
I whimper, beg, gasp for air, my fingers yanking at his hair as I try to pull him away before he destroys me completely.
But he doesn’t move.
He groans against my skin, like he’s still hungry for me, like he’s not done tasting me.
He lifts his head, his lips glistening, his breath still hot against my skin, and then, he moves.
He crawls up my body with predatory slowness, every inch of him radiating raw dominance, until those blue ocean eyes are locked on mine, pinning me in place with such intensity I feel like I might melt into the sheets.
His stare is too much, too deep, too knowing, too consuming.
I turn my head away, unable to hold the weight of his gaze, but his fingers slide beneath my chin, tilting my face back to him.
And then, his mouth is on mine.
Slow at first, teasing, his lips tracing mine like he’s savoring the taste of me.
Then his tongue slips inside, stroking, exploring, claiming, pulling me into a kiss so devastating my entire body shudders beneath him.
He groans, a deep, primal sound that makes my stomach tighten, and then he’s sucking on my tongue, biting my bottom lip, tugging, teasing, taking everything he wants and more.
And fuck, he moves.
